Mousehunt: Tale of a Master
by Silent Comet
Summary: Meet Laera, a Master of the Cheese Claw forced to fight for her right to be a Master. The result will lead her on a journey far beyond Furoma, into the dark and strange places of the world, where unknown enemies threaten to throw the world into chaos.
1. Chapter 1

**Mousehunt: Tale of a Master**

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Mousehunt, nor its mouse designs. However, the names, personalities, and plot are mine.

Laera opened her eyes as though from a deep sleep. The panel of wood before her wavered in and out of focus as she concentrated her strength. Drawing in a breath, the panel finally slid into solidarity. There was a sudden creak on the floor behind her and her right hand shot out towards the panel in response. A quick pressure against her index claw, a light thunk as it impacted the panel, and an explosion of air and wood splinters as the panel blew apart from the impact of her power.

"You shouldn't be wasting your energy like that." Laera turned toward the voice, eyes lidded against the afterimages of the explosion. Jar stood in the doorway, relaxed, his many weapons tucked away in their sheaths on his back. He lifted his chin and his gravelly voice echoed off the far walls of the mediation room. "Want to sleep well tonight? Don't waste energy blowing things up."

"It calms me down." She turned back to the splintery wreckage of the panel. "I'm nervous about tomorrow." She confessed, her voice solid but quiet.

She didn't turn as she heard his claws click across the floor towards her. "You'll do fine. You passed ably last year, you'll pass again."

Silence descended. Laera gave her fellow Master a sidelong look. He looked back up directly, the stocky stature typical of the Cheese Fang Masters putting his head just above Laera's waistline. Not exceptionally tall herself, Laera still found humor in finding herself taller than her fellow Master, but shorter than several of the weapons he carried.

"Well here you guys are!" A jovial voice suddenly echoed off the walls, familiar enough to cut short the automatic responses of the two. Sliding one foot back, she found a chuckle escape her lips at the Cheese Belt Master padding silently into the room. For all his girth, Blent was as light on his toes as any Burglar Mouse.

Jar snorted as he turned fully. "You're lucky I was distracted with you sneaking around. I could have killed you from here."

Releasing a snorting laugh, Blent tossed his hands. "Oh please." He stopped in front of Laera and clapped his hands on her shoulders. "So!" Leaning close, his eyes were wide sincerity. "How do you feel?"

Laera smiled lightly but pulled his hands from her shoulders. "I'm fine." She moved the hands back towards Blent's person. "Just releasing some stress before bed."

"You'll do fine!" Blent's expressive hands waved emphatically before clapping together.

"Of course she will." Jar snorted and moved past Blent. "So long as she gets some sleep." He cast a warning eye behind him as he passed out of the room.

"Ah! He's right! Look at how late it is, and you need to be up early…" He chattered away worriedly and swung one massive arm over Laera's shoulders as he pulled her toward the door. Trying to appreciate his concern and ignore his habitual invasion of her personal space, Laera sighed and looked forward to a fitful night.

Her guess wasn't far off the mark, as she slept sporadically. As the sky began to finally turn pink she gave up and snuck to back to the meditation room. The building was silent before sunrise, even the thrumming of power from the Pinnacle Chambers above their heads was missing. Taking a deep breath and pushing the unnerving silence from her mind, Laera began her morning exercises.

The other Masters of the Cheese Claw filtered in as the sun came up, keeping their distance from Laera. They knew she was to be tested today, as would they in their own times. Tested once every year, each Master, whether Claw, Fang, or Belt, had to prove their worthiness to maintain the title of Master. If they faltered, slipped in their training or devotion to the art, banishment was the only remedy for the shame of failure. Granted, some stuck around, Hapless creatures stripped of their Master's Shards and left to diminish slowly in the shadow of the Pagoda. Lesser even than the furiously busy Workers, the Hapless cleaned up after the students they were no longer fit to teach.

A final thrust at her imaginary enemy and Laera paused to listen to the morning gong. The students would rise now. On their heels would be the Workers and the Hapless. Claws clenched, Laera moved to the window and watched them spread over the training grounds in the dim morning sun. The Workers sped over the grass, picking up the debris left by the occasional Archer or Ninja who had practiced on the dummies during the night. A Trap had been slipped onto the training grounds and she saw the glint of red steel as a Samurai darted about helplessly inside. The Hapless mice lingered close to the Pagoda, constantly sweeping sidewalks and steps.

"It won't happen to you." Laera whipped around, but held her power in check. The Cheese Claw Master behind her blinked, but did not flinch. Pinse, one of the new Masters. Was a Student until only recently, though not one of Laera's. Waiting for Laera's power to subside, Pinse looked beyond her out the window. "You've always done well, everyone knows."

Laera looked away from the quietly trusting eyes. Yes, this one was very new. Perhaps she didn't know, or maybe didn't care to believe the news of the many who had indeed failed as of late. Perhaps it was true what else they said: that the Dojo Masters were giving the Students easier tests to allow them to become Masters. More Masters to replace the many who left in defeat, no longer eligible for the mercy they had been shown in the test as Students. The Students simply had to survive a time limit, the Masters had to actively fight and land a hit in order to pass. Outside, the sun continued to rise. Laera had indeed always passed, though no one but the Dojo Masters and herself knew that far too many times her victory was due to luck. She had learned quickly that her opponents didn't hold back, and if she didn't win quickly, it would take no more than a few hits to defeat her. Insecurity trickled into the back of her mind; had she improved enough this past year?

Laera opened her mouth slightly to convey her doubt when a second gong sounded from the floor above. Automatically, the Masters in the room, including Pinse, straightened and looked to Laera. Paling under the sudden attention, she trained her eyes on the door to the hallway. The room filed quickly into the hallway, leaving Laera to collect her thoughts before following. Taking a deep breath and swallowing her doubts, she listened to the clicking of her claws as her feet carried her to the door.

Every Master was lined along the hallway, like she had done so many times. The other ones, Assassins, Samurai, and Kung Fu mice looked over the shoulders of the Masters to watch her as she passed. She spotted Pinse, Blent, and finally Jar in her peripheral vision as she walked but kept her focus on the stairs at the end of the hallway. The thrumming of power had increased in the floor above, the timber rising and falling as the Dojo Masters moved about. She entered the darkness of the staircase and as she passed upwards, she paused to listen to the faint scurrying below as the other Masters returned to their studies. She closed and opened her eyes slowly. Her focus must be absolute for the task ahead.

She came to the top of the stairs and reflected on the strangeness of being at the same level of the thrumming, as opposed to below it. Sliding open the rice paper door, she kept her head down until she had turned to return the door to its closed position. One of them was here, she was in the same room as a Master of the Dojo. She had done it before, she had won her right to stay a Master several times before. Steadying herself, she turned, chin lifted in determination.

What she saw unnerved her to the core. The Dojo Master she was to face was massive, his arms alone as big around as her body. The sacred onyx stones, near as big as her head were slung tight around his neck. He floated above the ground as Laera had known them to, but emitted a strange green glow that filled her eyes and dug itself into her mind. Whatever she remembered from last year, this was different, wrong somehow. The thing before her was twisted in its very essence and Laera fought down a tremble.

"Are you ready?" The Dojo Master's voice rumbled across the floor, startling her out of her thoughts. She nodded once, not trusting her voice. Pushing her center closer to the ground, she settled into a defensive stance.

The blow came before she knew he had moved, and the left side of her head exploded in pain as she stumbled back and darted out a hand to his eyes. She had missed, but it forced the Dojo Master back, out of her reach. There was a pause and Laera tried to ignore the warmth slipping down the side of her face. A wound already, a face wound no less. Her claws were up before here, ready for the next strike and the Dojo Master hung just outside of her reach, his own massive claws up, bloodshot eyes eating up her fear. Her own claws jerked toward him, trying to startle him into action. A tremor ran through the muscles of his shoulders, but he didn't take the bait. She tried it once again, with the same result, her claws dipping slightly in time with the frantic beating of her heart. Keeping her power at the ready for so long was difficult, and the stress was working at her mind.

Suddenly, a massive claw shot towards her face and she dodged to the right, and felt the fist connect at an odd angle, only to slip over the stream of blood to fall back behind her head. Taking the blatant opportunity, she shot a fist up with all of her power towards the Dojo Master's face. But the fist and her concentration wavered out of place as she felt her balance being broken. The massive fist that had missed clamped down on her shoulder and she felt herself being dragged forward. Twisting away as best she could under the unbreakable grip, she could do nothing when a colossal furred knee reached her gut with enough force to lift her off the ground. Pain exploded through her midsection, and every ounce of breath left her. Her eyes crossed and her focus faded immediately as she buckled. She was done, and she knew it. Failure, failure, failure, it echoed in her mind, jarring only when the vice on her shoulder release, dropping her to the floor.

She trembled on her knees, hunched over until her breath came back with a gasp. An unsteady rumble of laughter brought her eyes slowly upward. The Dojo Master above her seemed to be glowing as he laughed, a glow that concentrated between the curled claws of his hands before him. Beyond the glow, eyes stared down at her, a mad crimson ringing them. Failure, failure, they taunted her. For just a second too long.

Pain still shooting through her midsection, Laera ignored it. She was not a failure; she had won before and would do it again. Knowing her livelihood depended on one last effort, she poured every ounce of speed and power into digging her toe claws into the floor to propel her upwards, one fist extending towards the Dojo Master's stomach. She saw the glowing ball lifted above her head, but she ignored it. This was her last chance. It seemed to flow in slow motion, the worry, the pain in her gut, the ring of triumph when she felt the slip of cotton against her fist. All coherent thought shattered with an explosion of pain in the top of her skull. Something between a cough and a groan escaped her lips as she fell once again, this time into the darkness of unconsciousness. Luckily, it overtook her just in time to let the resounding knowledge of her failure echo through her mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Mousehunt: Tale of a Master**

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Mousehunt, nor its mouse designs. However, the names, personalities, and plot are mine.

All coherent thought shattered with an explosion of pain in the top of her skull. Something between a cough and a groan escaped her lips as she fell once again, this time into the darkness of unconsciousness. Luckily, it overtook her just in time to let the resounding knowledge of her failure echo through her mind.

A chill slipped under her fur and Laera crawled into consciousness. Throbbing pains in her temple and midsection accented an overall ache throughout her body. Another breeze swept over her and she curled in on herself, only to realize she had no clothes. Her dress, the customary aqua of the Masters of the Cheese Claw, had been taken. The pulse of warmth in her chest, once the pouch containing her Masters Shard, was also missing. She was naked, empty, no better than the equally naked Hapless, Workers, or even worse, the Whites, Grays, and Browns that scurried mindlessly about the grounds.

She struggled to sit up, forcing her too-heavy head to sit correctly on her shoulders. She was in the shadow of the Pagoda, on the far side against the trees. A fiery red swath of light cut into the grass at the corner, betraying the sunset on the other side. A few Hapless mice were milling about, throwing her pitiful looks as they slowly swept the disused sidewalks. Suddenly angry, she threw her gaze from them and focused on the grass between her feet. A failure among other failures.

Twisting around, she put her knees under her and tried to stand up. Wavering, she tried not to hunch over simply to spare her midsection the exertion. She still had her height and her posture; she would fight the diminishing process with every fiber of her being if she had to. Struggling to breathe properly through the pain, she stumbled to the wall of the pagoda and leaned against it, sinking once again to the ground. Coherent thought wavered in and out and she did not try to stop it. Focusing on her breathing, she watched the sun's light slowly disappear.

She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep until she felt a pair of strong hands pull her up and the warmth of a damp cloth on her face. Her eyes opened with a wince as the skin and fur moved across the wound on the side of her head. A pair of concerned brown eyes bobbed in front of her own.

"Oh good, you're awake." Blent. The massive mouse was crouched in front of her, cloth in hand. He was visible in the surrounding dark, a fire was lit off to their right. Laera shifted her eyes to the left, away from the harsh light, and saw Jar looking at her, occasionally turning his head to stare down the pale Hapless silently skirting the edge of the flickering light.

Laera moved her eyes back to Blent. Her breath was coming more easily now, but the ache deep in her body remained. Semi-logical thought rose to the front of her mind and Laera thought in a panic that they had somehow lost their tests too and were now condemned like her. Sighing in concern, Blent dabbed her forehead again, and the cloth reentered her vision, bloodstained. Her mind worked over her worry and replaced it with self-pity as she noticed that both of her former companions were still fully clothed. They weren't due for their tests for some time yet. They were down here for her. They pitied her.

"I'm fine." Laera croaked, ignoring the painful scrape of her own voice against her throat. Pushing the cloth away, she braced her hands against the wall and attempted to stand. Blent's hands were under her arms in a second and Jar moved to her other side.

"You are not." Jar's gravelly voice was almost too low to hear.

Blent's large hands almost encircled each of her forearms. "You're really hurt and we're not abandoning you out here."

Grunting as she pulled away, she slid along the wall away from the fire, turning away from them. "You're not allowed to be down here. I…failed. I am worthless now."

Both Jar and Blent snorted in unison. Laera tilted an ear back to them in what as almost amusement.

"Don't be stupid." Jar's comment was low and irritated.

Wavering as she pushed off the wall, she gestured up to the imposing shape of the Pagoda as she turned to face them. "You need to be back up there!" Her anger fueled her motions, the pain momentarily forgotten. "I won't let you lose your Shards because you were caught down here with…" The motivation didn't last and suddenly out of breath, she wavered, spreading her feet to keep her balance. Blent moved forward, but was stopped by Jar's outstretched hand. Steadying herself, Laera let her eyes fall to the ground. "I wouldn't wish this fate on anyone. Diminishing into nothing, losing every ounce of power until all I can do is…" She swept her eyes scornfully up to the Hapless that stood just outside the ring of light, too curious to leave, but too frightened to approach. "Until all I can do is sweep the sidewalks."

Jar and Blent were silent, pity plain on Blent's face as he clasped his hands in front of him, but Jar's face was inscrutable. "We will go then." Jar said lowly, voice devoid of emotion. Blent looked in horror to the shorter Master. Laera kept her eyes trained on Jar's and found with a small measure of satisfaction that there was no pity there. She nodded, and he returned the gesture.

Blent was looking at her with abject pity and sadness, lower lip quivering and Laera released a sad smile with a sigh. "I'll be fine." The words felt like a lie in her mouth, but she swallowed them anyway.

With a sniffle and a sad whine, Blent jumped forward to capture Laera in a hug. Her breath left her and a strangled groan escaped. "Oh! Sorry…" Blent released her gently and looked down apologetically. "Oh!" His eyes lit up for a moment and he dove into the pockets of his loose pants. "Here! So you don't have to live off that miserable cheddar or anything…" He pulled out a few pieces of Glutter and two full handfuls of Swiss.

Laera took the mass of cheese in her arms and Jar laughed derisively. "You carry cheese around with you?"

"I need to keep my metabolism up!" Blent rounded on Jar, sticking his tongue out.

Jar snorted. "Well she certainly can't just haul them around like that…" Digging into his own pockets, he pulled out a large cleaning cloth and, balling it up, tossed it to her. "There. You'll need that."

Laera laughed shortly as she wrapped up the cheese and they both joined in. But it dissolved quickly and they were left with only the crackle of the firewood between them. Laera smiled softly and nodded, and this time, both Jar and Blent returned it. Almost reluctantly, they turned and disappeared into the darkness.

"Now that I think about it…" Jar's voice echoed back, and Laera could almost see the glint of his many weapons in the flickering light. "I heard the Samurais once talk about a clan in the forests to the West. Assassins, they were called. Perhaps joining them would be an alternative to…diminishing." And then he was gone.

Laera watched the place in the darkness they had disappeared into. She had never heard of Masters who failed and did not stick around for the sad consequences. But then, she had never kept track of those who failed, any attempt to do so was in itself cause for banishment from the Pagoda. Sinking slowly to the cold grass, Laera felt a twinge of hope bloom in her chest. Assassins were fighters. That was something she knew how to do.

The morning sun rose before Laera even realized she had fallen asleep. The fire was now a collection of dew dropped twigs, and Laera kicked them apart as she stretched. She was damp from sleeping outside, but much off the soreness had vanished. The grass had in fact been a much softer bed than the straw mats she was used to. Standing up, she dug her claws into her back as she stretched. A lone Samurai was across the stretch of grass, sitting in the sun. His helmet was in the grass beside him, and his upper armor was in his hands, being worked over with what appeared to be polish. Laera watched him for a moment, admiring his thoroughness, and she was certain he was aware of her. Brushing the excess dew off, she walked towards him.

His movements slowed, but otherwise gave no indication he noticed her. It was only when she came within striking distance that he stopped to put his hand on the sword at his hip. Not an explicit threat, but a warning. Laera stopped, happy to soak in the morning sun from a distance.

"Can I help you?" His voice was low, but young. Not yet a seasoned warrior, though experienced enough if the muscles bulging beneath his undershirt were anything to go by.

Laera kneeled slowly until she was at eye level with the sitting Samurai. "Tell me about the Assassins."

A sly smile crossed his face and he removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. "You must be Laera." The smile twisted into a smirk. "The recently fallen Master of the Cheese Claw."

Laera forced away a scowl. "Word travels fast."

"Knowledge is power." He said simply. "A fallen Master tends to stir things up around here, and surprises can be dangerous."

Laera couldn't argue with that, and so stayed silent. Tilting her head forward, she swiveled her ears towards him.

Glancing up, he took a breath and returned to polishing his armor. "So the Assassins. One of the many lovely career paths awaiting one of your kind."

"Career paths?" Laera asked derisively.

"If you high and mighty Masters deigned to look down from your tower a bit more often, you'd already know." Laera tensed at his mocking tone, but ground her teeth and stayed silent. His smirk returned and he continued. "Lots of you Claw Masters end up with the Assassins. They only take females anyway. I've seen some end up as Black Widows, Burglars, Nomads… Some wander off into the dark places to the south and are never seen again." The Samurai fixed Laera with a wry look. "There are quite a few places to go in the wide world."

"I don't want the wide world." Laera said intensely, trying to keep her impatience out of her voice.

"Ah, yes. You want the Assassins." Putting aside his armor, the Samurai leaned forward, forearms on his knees. "Beyond the forests to the south, there is a river. In the middle of this river, there is a small island of trees. In those trees is the Assassins' den."

"This river…" Laera looked to the south now, trying to see beyond the forests. "How do I cross it?"

The Samurai snorted a laugh. "Don't try swimming, if that's what you're thinking. The Humans built a terrible place upstream of it, and every day it dumps in slime that glows green and changes any mouse who touches it into a monster. Anymore, the Humans only go to that place to try and catch the creatures they've created. Beyond the river, even further south, is a graveyard, where the dark things live. Beyond that…" The Samurai paused to pull his armor over his head. Fitting the straps in the sides, he did not look at Laera. "I've never been."

Laera stood slowly as the mouse before her continued to meticulously buckle the straps. She nodded and turned to the south. "Thank you."

He paused after buckling his helmet and stood. "Good luck." His voice was quiet, and suddenly he was gone, running north in the strange forward-slanted run of the Samurais. The sun was well above the horizon now, and Laera looked up at the Pagoda and imagined she could hear the gongs that dictated the day for so many of her former peers. She imagined Jar and Blent resuming their former lives, moving on from her as she must move on from them. Forcing herself to accept that truth, Laera started southward.

A/N: Thinking about turning this into a comic and posting it on Devart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Mousehunt: Tale of a Master**

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Mousehunt, nor its mouse designs. However, the names, personalities, and plot are mine.

The sun was well above the horizon now, and Laera looked up at the Pagoda and imagined she could hear the gongs that dictated the day for so many of her former peers. She imagined Jar and Blent resuming their former lives, moving on from her as she must move on from them. Forcing herself to accept that truth, Laera slung her pack of cheese over her shoulder and started southward.

The Hapless threw her angry looks as she passed down the sidewalks along the outside of the Pagoda. Whether it was because they knew she was a former Master, or they knew she had refused to accept the fate they had, she didn't know. None spoke to her, only moved irritably out of the way when she passed. Beady eyes regarded her behind their tiny spectacles and despite her knowledge that they would not dare step to her, Laera regarded their stares with suspicion.

Finally out of the shadow of the Pagoda, she soaked in the sunshine as she made a wide arc around a trio of Archers lining up a distant target. The massive rock garden, always a source of peace for those above, seemed to be a source of great upkeep for those on the ground. Two Workers dashed around the perimeter, snatching up weeds and stray stones, while a single Worker meticulously drew the lined rake across the sand in the center. By the time Laera had made it to the garden, they were done and sprinting off towards the training grounds, tools in hand. Perhaps a life as a Worker would not have been so bad, they were said to be paid for their services. Laera reflected on it as she watched the trio join two others and begin to quickly assemble a training dummy. However, it seemed only those with a permanent caffeine high would be suitable.

A Monk passed out of the woods, heading for the rock garden, and gave her a sage nod as he passed her. Laera returned it and passed under the tree canopy. The soft click of claws on rock came to her ears and she turned in time to see the Monk hop nimbly from rock to rock, finally coming to rest on the highest. His nose lifted to the cloudless sky and Laera smiled softly as she turned back to the trees. Such peace; she wondered if even the Masters had such discipline to attain it.

A White mouse darted across her path, directly into a trap. A translucent force field shot up around him, and he squealed furiously. A blue-tinged gas began to filter into the air trapped inside and Laera forced herself to move on, allowing the small creature to succumb to the darkness without an audience. The wind moved the trees above her and she watched the dappled sunlight play across the undergrowth. The forest was well populated as a pair of Browns dashed alongside of her, chittering in delight as they criss-crossed paths back and forth ahead of her. Climbing through a line of bushes, she revealed an irritated Dwarf hiding underneath, who paused in sharpening his axe to fix her with an annoyed look. Laera was reminded so sharply of Jar she nearly fell out of the growth trying to move away quickly.

Pausing to lean against a tree, Laera looked up at the sun and judged it was past midday. Letting the breeze filtering through the trees lift her fur and dry the sweat between her shoulder blades, she listened past the rustling leaves and scurrying feet to hear the sound of running water. Rejuvenated by hope, she dashed ahead, skidding to a halt on a pebbled bank. Small rocks flew, plunking into the murky water. Laera gasped shortly as she watched them sink. Tendrils of green slipped through the current, an unnatural glow lighting the disturbed silt. The Humans, this was their doing. Stepping back from the bank, Laera realized with a start of irritation she had never found out exactly how she was supposed to get across. The island in the center of the river was oblong, and dense with trees. Only shadows were visible under the canopy.

Growling at her inattention, she looked up and down the bank. The sun was starting to sink behind the trees and the faintest dusting of mist was starting to rise over the water. An odd shadow was visible further down the bank and Laera started as it straightened. Circular shapes on top twitched to become ears, and a long shadow shifted to become a small boat. There was a mouse further down, with a boat, and looking back at her. Laera steeled herself and shifted the cheese off her shoulder as she moved down the bank.

The sun was fully behind the trees by the time she was within speaking distance of the strange mouse. It was a female, in hooded pink robes, with a single blade tucked into her belt. A dark spot on her arm sharpened into an image of a dragon.

Stopping just outside of striking distance, Laera spread her feet and lowered her head. "Would you be an Assassin?"

A wry smile spread over the other mouse's face and she dipped forward, hiding her eyes in the shadow of her hood. "A bit rare to see a White so tall." She grinned sharply. "And talking too."

Laera clenched a fist and couldn't swallow the impulse to attack. "I'm…I was a Master of the Cheese Claw, you imbecilic pink thing."

"Really?" The smile did not disappear as she lifted her head. "Show me."

The first moment was a fury of claws and fists and Laera immediately knew she was fighting a former Master. She could name every move her opponent made and counter with one her opponent no doubt could name as well. Rising Sun Burning the Mist, Bitter Wind from the North, Great Mountains Pushing Away the Sky, the series of movements was no longer a fight but a training exercise, a much-needed sparring match to remind her that knowledge and the ability to fight had not been taken with her Master's Shard.

"Katsu!" The yell came sharp and halting, her pink opponent danced out of her reach. A variation of 'Cut', the cry was a call for the end of a sparring match among any of the three Master disciplines. Laera was indeed facing a fellow Master and she lowered her claws and her head in respect. Well, a fellow fallen Master at least. But the blood of the fight still pumped through her veins and proof, right in front of her, that she would not diminish into a worthless Hapless warmed her blood still.

"So, a fellow Master." Her opponent tilted her head and chuckled, still breathing heavily. "How recently have you fallen?"

"Yesterday." An elaborate tale was not required, and Laera had no desire to relive the experience. "You are of the Assassin clan then?"

A row of white teeth widened as she smiled. "Why yes I am." The grin disappeared and she lifted her head, small black eyes finally visible. "My name is not important, whether you join us or not, you will not see me again. I should warn you," Her eyes took on a glint and Laera steeled herself. "If you are looking for a home, you will not find it here. An Assassin has no home but the road in front of them, no family save those they are sent to kill. Would you willingly accept this life?"

Laera's eyes widened slightly and she thought on such a life. The Pagoda has always been her home, since before she could remember. Jar and Blent, the other Masters, even the Dojo Masters in a twisted way were part of her former family. Family and home had been taken away from her, could she willingly discard them now?

"Yes. I accept it." She could and she would. In time, they would forget her, she must learn to forget them.

The Assassin nodded as though understanding. Perhaps all Cheese Claw Masters who ended up here went though the same mental dilemma? The Assassin turned to the boat, cutting off Laera's thoughts. No turning back now.

She followed the pink-robed mouse into the small boat and sat down awkwardly. Without looking at her again, the Assassin picked up a long polished stick with a metal tip and pushed them off the bank. Laera had the sudden sensation of passing into the underworld.

They passed over the wide, but low-riding river, in silence save for the rushing of the water around the wooden boat and the dulled twang of the pole tip hitting the rocks below. Laera tilted her head to peer over the side of the boat. The tendrils of green splashed against their boat with the water, leaving traces of their unearthly green in the wood grain. Slowly drifting downstream as they moved closer to the island, a small single-boat pier come into view, almost completely hidden by the undergrowth. Expertly, as though she'd done it a hundred times, the Assassin navigated the currents and docked swiftly at the side, tossing a rope over the corner support.

Laera stood and turned stepped unsteadily onto the dock as the boat wavered with her movement. Turning to wait for the Assassin, confusion rose as she did not step out of the boat as well. "You will find the grand council at the center of the island. There is a path." Instead of gesturing, she turned to adjust the pole, hood hiding her face.

Suspicious, but grateful, Laera nodded. "Thank you."

The Assassin said no more, turning only to undo the rope and allow her boat to drift again into the open waters. Turning to the thickly shadowed forest, even darker now that the sun was starting to fade, Laera sucked in a breath. No turning back now. With the forced hopefulness of the thought, she plunged into the undergrowth.


	4. Chapter 4

Mousehunt: Tale of a Master

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Mousehunt, nor its mouse designs. However, the names, personalities, and plot are mine.

The Assassin said no more, turning only to undo the rope and allow her boat to drift again into the open waters. Turning to the thickly shadowed forest, even darker now that the sun was starting to fade, Laera sucked in a breath. No turning back now. With the forced hopefulness of the thought, she plunged into the undergrowth.

The surrounding foliage was deceptively unassuming, and if not for the boat and pier, and the Samurai's word, she would have never guessed the Assassin clan had made their den there. A strong vine winding its way around a tree caught her eye. She shifted the bag of cheese in her hand and reached out for the vine. It would be perfect for-

A sudden low whistle cut off her thoughts and a crude javelin thunked into the tree, coincidentally cutting off the vine. Snatching it up, she turned as she ripped it out of the ground, just in time to dodge to the right, out of the way of two more spears. They followed the first into the tree, wobbling slightly at their impact. Jumping backwards, another javelin missed, and an unbalanced double jump backwards nearly toppled her over a root, but took her out of the path of two more hurtling toward her. The crackle of wood rippled through the forest above her and she looked up in alarm. Something big, wider then herself and easily twice as long, hurtled down toward her. Another thunk, dangerously close jarred her out of her shock and she twisted back. Hopping nimbly over the latest spear, she ran haltingly through the undergrowth, the massive object crashing through the branches behind her.

A break in the trees appeared to her right and she dove for it, her shoulder meeting solid wood, stacked in planks. Her amazement halted her for a moment as she recognized it as a wall. The path wasn't a path at all, it was a corridor. She turned to face the object, now clearly a giant hewn log, with grim determination set in her jaw. Gathering her strength, she gripped her cheese and vine tightly, and jumped. The log swung under her, snapping the branches and javelins in its wake. The claws of her feet impacted with the wood and she nearly fell to her knees with the momentum. Attempting to regain her balance, she ran teeteringly along the top of the log, hopping over the vines knotted together along its length. She didn't bother to look around and see where it was swinging from, another high whistle closed in from her right and she dove forward, off the log. Twin javelins thunked into the tree beside her, and she fell to her stomach. Her breath left her and she struggled for a moment to breathe.

A low creaking of wood behind her and she twisted her head to see the log slow down and begin movement back toward her. Sucking in a breath, she scrabbled forward to an indent in the ground between two roots and twisted painfully as she pushed herself into it, shoving the cheese and vine down beneath her. The log passed by overhead with a rush of wind and a creak of the heavy wood. The wind ran chills under her fur and she cursed irritably at her unseen enemy. Wasn't it enough that she bested the boatman, now she must best the forest as well? The wind disappeared from above her and she jumped up, jerking sporadically to the side to avoid yet another javelin. Her claws dug into the leaves below as she twisted, darting forward. The log was beginning its descent once again, only Laera had every intention of outrunning it this time; she couldn't hide in the hole forever. Her breath came in gasps now, and she dove low to avoid three javelins in immediate succession right in front of her. The dive cost her speed, and the log gained, picking up speed as it ran toward her. Clamoring to her feet as she ran, Laera cast a glance backwards, and attempted to calculate how much longer the log would continue forwards. In her thoughts she nearly missed the massive hole in front of her, and may have not even noticed but for the sudden glint in the hole's darkness. More javelins, wicked metal-tipped things, stuck up at the bottom of this hole, and one look at the far side told Laera it was too far to jump. She skidded to a halt at the hole's edge, and one ragged breath later, she realized her lungs were burning. Scrapes along her knees and arms flared to life, demanding her attention. The log sped closer, the rush of wood and wind now a roar in her ears. She could see her death now, broken against the head of the log, impaled on the spikes as it hurtled her into the pit. Maybe this was simply another test she was destined to fail, fate's retribution for scorning a life as a Hapless.

The thought rang in her head, gaining a defiant note in the span between the next heartbeat. No. Failure was not an option. On more impulse than actual planning, she tossed the vine into the hand with the cheese and leapt up as the log closed in, twisting backwards over it. Hooking her free claws into the head of it, she let the momentum pull her all the way around and she landed with an unsteady thump on top of it. Sucking in a breath, she took two strong steps to the forefront of the long, feeling it start to slow down at the end of its swing, and settled her feet at the very edge. It was well over the pit now, though the distance to the other side still seemed impossible. No, only almost impossible. At the very moment the log reached the end of its forward drive, Laera leapt.

The remaining forward momentum drove her forward and the far side rushed up to meet her. She landed nearly on all fours, just barely past the lip of the hole, and she choked on a gasp as the ground suddenly gave way. Digging her claws into the crumbling earth, the dirt gave way beneath her until a root surfaced. Clinging to it, she kicked her back feet for purchase as the earth continued to crumble. Hitting something hard with her right foot, she leapt upwards, digging a claw into the stabler ground ahead, beyond the root. Kicking and clawing, she pulled herself out of the hole. Just about to stand up, another javelin whistled above her head tauntingly. Keeping low, she dashed forward. How much longer could the test possibly go on?

As if an answer to her thoughts, the ground suddenly slanted forward, leaves and dirt flying to reveal wooden planks. Attempting to keep her footing as she slid forward into an underground cavern, she slid for a short way before her tired legs finally gave out and she tumbled forward. She managed to put her feet beneath her once again at the bottom and slid forward on the smooth ground in what was almost a crouch. A single shaft of red-tinged sunlight cast down into the center of the clearing and Laera slid somewhat dramatically into the center of it. Silence fell suddenly, and Laera looked tiredly around. Branches sharpened into benches, leaves slid into faces with hoods and glinting black eyes. The Assassin's den.

"Well done." A feminine voice echoed, and Laera turned towards its source, or at least its direction, the shifting mass of hooded faces did not change. "Welcome to the den of the Assassins. You've proven yourself worthy of our ranks." Now, a single hooded figure stood in the darkness, otherwise indistinguishable from the rest. "You would have been asked once at the river whether you truly wanted the life of an Assassin, and I shall ask you again. Do you wish to join us? To abandon your previous life and wear the mark of the Assassin with pride? Answer truthfully; once given the mark, it cannot be removed, even in death."

The room was silent now, only the wind brushing against the trees outside could be heard. Laera's resolve wavered once again. Failure as a Master meant exile, unfortunate in itself but at least it was a chance to hide one's shame, and to live in whatever state one chose. But to fail as an Assassin? The result was death, most surely. This was her choice, was it? Either return to the Dojo and live off the scraps of her former life; wander the world as an unmarked White, alone and exiled; or become an Assassin and deal the game of death. Laera's eyes darted upwards and she squared her shoulders. "I will accept the mark of the Assassin, and wear it with pride." Her voice echoed ominously in the clearing.

Laera could swear she saw the standing mouse smile before she leapt down to Laera's level. The shaft of sunlight cast a harsh shadow on the Assassin's face, and Laera stiffened as she gestured behind her. Three other Assassins stepped forward. The one on the left carried a pink bundle, her new clothing. The one in the center carried a small, oddly shaped torch. The one on the right carried something small that glinted as it came into the light. A dagger. Swallowing heavily, Laera tried not to squirm as they moved to either side of her. The one who has spoken did not move, and remained in front of Laera with a soft, strange smile.

"We have your first mission." The Assassin spoke, interrupting Laera's thoughts. The one on her left threw the hooded dress above Laera's head suddenly, and the one with the odd torch moved to Laera's side, next to the one with the dagger. "It is to the southeast, in the Bazaar there. Word has it that a cartographer has gotten ahold of a map that marks our location here." She paused as Laera absently adjusted her ears into the hood as the Assassin to her right latched her belt in the front. On her left, the Assassin swiftly tucked the dagger into her belt, the blade shimmering oddly in the shaft of light. It appeared to be not only one blade, but several slipped together in one hilt. "Kill the human cartographer if you must-" Her nonchalant words made Laera look up sharply. "But destroying the map is the focus of your mission. Do you accept it?"

Destroying a map didn't seem so difficult. Though, neither had a stroll through the forest not so long ago. "Yes, I accept."

The sound of metal scraping against metal sounded from her side, and she looked over to see the oddly shaped torch opening like a flower to reveal a glowing bit of metal inside. Laera realized with a twinge in the pit of her stomach that the metal was shaped like a dragon; the mark of the Assassin. Before she had time to brace herself, an explosion of pain raced over her upper arm. A cry worked its way into her throat and she covered it with a strangled cough. The brand, the source of the pain, lifted away and the smell of burnt flesh and fur reached her nose. Grimacing at the still-lingering pain, she shifted her arm to look. A blackened, disjointed dragon smoldered on the side of her arm. She absently fingered the cloth of her dress with her other hand. She had spent all her years as a Master in clothing, but she had already gotten accustomed to running about in her fur.

"Go now. You may return when you complete your mission, or you may not. Either way we will send for you when we need you." With that, and her strange soft smile, the first Assassin turned her back and disappeared into the shadows, followed by the other three, the scrape of the branding torch shutting a dull echo in the cavern. Looking around at the empty benches lining the clearing, Laera realized she was alone. Clutching the bag of cheese and the vine that seemed to have come from another life, she moved into the shadows, now seeing a small glimmer of light on the other side.


	5. Chapter 5

Mousehunt: Tale of a Master

Chapter 5

A/N: Warning, rating's gone up a tad for a mention of violence.

Laera squinted in the afternoon sun as the Bazaar loomed close, a scattering of brightly colored tents among the grass. She was tired and had slowed to a trudging walk as opposed to the determined sprints of the day before. She'd made it to a cemetery around dusk, and skirted the fence around as opposed to venturing inside. As night continued to fall, an eerie red light silhouetted the gravestones, and terrifying howls jarred her from sleep throughout the night. No creatures of the night approached her, no matter how many times she jumped at shadows, and as the sun rose the next day, it all seemed more of a bad dream. She hadn't been attacked, hadn't even seen anything come out of the graveyard, and the howling could have very well been wind whistling through the tombstones. She'd lost a valuable night's sleep over nothing more than paranoia.

She could hear the Bazaar even before she could properly see it, as Hunter's voices carried on the winds. She passed several traps along the way, but did not risk stealing until her own supply was up. Shaking herself awake, Laera dropped to all fours and sprinted ahead to clear her mind of the fog of sleep. The Bazaar was bustling with Hunters and mice alike, moving between the tents of food and merchandise. The roar of Hunters talking ran overhead, as the chatter of other mice filled the air below, mostly about the Hunters. Within an hour of walking, munching inconspicuously on a piece of Marble, Laera heard more about how to kill the Hunters than she ever knew during her life as a Master.

For all their skill and ingenuity in trapping, the Hunters were a frail species. Passing a small apothecary, she learned of poisons that could be slipped into their unguarded food; a small matchbox advertised diseased fleas that would gladly infiltrate a target's clothing, for a price; an old Mole stood shakily on a pile of cardboard extolling the virtues of Barque the Great, a mighty Steel Mouse who held a Hunter at bay with a simple blade to its pulse-point. Despite the apparently simplicity of killing Hunters, none seemed up to the challenge, and the advertisements seemed more entertainment than promise of revolution. Besides, Laera was no killer. Perhaps in time, she'd accept that side of being an Assassin, but for the moment she sought only to incapacitate. Her target was not a Hunter, a mere cartographer who'd gotten a piece of map that put him on the wrong side of the Guild. Destroying the map would be easy; the cartographer would live.

Darting around stomping feet and other mice, Laera made her way towards the cartographer's tent, denoted by a red and yellow flag hanging over the door. Pausing at the base of a pole, Laera surveyed the entrance with interest. No mice seemed particularly interested in the tent, no doubt due to its lack of food, and there were far less Hunters about. Both parties were far more crowded around the cheese shoppe down the dusty dirt lane. No sense in waiting, Laera rationalized, and she took off in a bounding run towards the tent opening. Sidestepping inside without incident, she slipped between a support pole and the tent wall to eye the scene for danger. The tent was all but empty, save for a desk with some scattered tools, two dying candles, and a wooden box with a row of parchment standing inside.

It seemed too easy and Laera looked around suspiciously. She really didn't understand the Hunters' reliance on maps. She'd found her way to the Bazaar just fine without one, hadn't she? It wasn't as though the landscape was devoid of landmarks, ones that even Hunters must be able to see from their high vantage.

Putting the thoughts away for the moment, Laera dashed across the floor and made the winding climb up the table leg. She darted quickly behind the parchment box as a group of noisy Hunters walked by the tent opening. When they'd passed and the background noise of the Bazaar returned to its normal thrum, Laera scrabbled up the side of the box and perched there. One parchment at a time flipped forward as she craned her neck around to make out the drawings, ears perked to the sounds from outside. Most were of the area around the Bazaar, but a few caused a stir of surprise.

First was a map of Furoma, the Dojo elegantly picked out in red ink. Homesickness rose in her chest and she quickly flipped past those maps. Second was an obvious repair of maps of the cemetery she'd passed, with an immense staircase leading down into a red-lit underground. The staircase seemed massive, if the scale was correct, and Laera wondered with a shudder as to what kind of mice could live in such a place, and what mouse could want to descend into that darkness. On all, however, the Assassins' island remained a nondescript, forested island. She came to the last parchment, already wondering if she would have to chase down whatever Hunter had purchased the map, when she saw the inscription she'd been looking for. The map was circled in red ink, with "Assassin's Guild" written in small, awkward letters. This map had the repaired portion with Furoma on it as well. Pushing the rest of the parchment back, she got a good look at the writing over the island. The letters were very shaky with trailing ends, as through written by someone unable to hold a pen properly.

A sudden burst of laughter from outside the tent jarred her from her thoughts. She had no idea how long the cartographer would be gone, and her life was forfeit if he came back and found her poking about in the maps. Holding the flimsy parchment for balance, she slid carefully around to the back lip of the box. Grimacing at the taste, she used her teeth to start a rip in the edge, and jumped into the box with the top of the page in her hand, pulling the tear all the way to the bottom. She heaved her weight against the heavy paper to warp the tear to include Furoma as well as the Assassins' island. The rip was desperately loud and after kicking the tear through the bottom edge, Laera paused to listen for a cry of alarm. Hearing nothing but the background roar, she climbed out of the box, hauling the heavy parchment piece after her.

Her original plan had been to haul it to the forest and shred it with her Assassin's blade, a fitting end she had supposed, but the flickering candles provided too much of an opportunity to pass up. The parchment sailed wildly above her head as she attempted to sweep it upwards to the flame. Grunting in irritation, Laera managed to land it in the soft wax and sighed in relief when the upper edge began to darken in the heat. Once fire caught to the paper, Laera jumped quickly to the edge of the table, tail curling around her ankles. The rest of the map burst into flames only to die just as quickly as the parchment dissolved. Charred embers spiraled upwards on the heat of the candle, drifting downwards once again to fall harmlessly on the table. Standing on the corner, mission accomplished, Laera had the sudden desire to burn the whole tent to the ground, to erase all memory of Furoma from the minds of Hunters. Not that the loss of their maps would stop them from coming, Laera remembered perfectly well that they were already there in droves.

"Oi! You little rascal!"

A shadow fell across Laera's vision and she knew immediately she'd pushed her luck too far. Presumably the cartographer, a plump creature with graying fur atop its head, bumbled towards the table. Quick enough to startle, but not nearly fast enough to catch her. Dashing towards the back of the table, she dove off the back and gripped at the tent fabric to slow her descent. The cartographer's head appeared below the table and hands grabbed for her. Hitting the ground with a graceless thump, she squeezed underneath the edge of the tent and bounded on all fours towards the thickest group of mice she saw. Voices behind her yelled incoherently, but they grew further away as she moved through the crowd.

Furred bodies brushed against her on all sides, but she felt a discreet swipe of claw against her side and was immediately on guard. Snatching at the wrist, she whipped around to glare angrily at a pair of surprised black eyes. Black fur shone in the sunlight and as Laera pulled the would-be pickpocket around to her front, she caught a glimpse of the red hourglass. A Black Widow, with Laera's Assassin blade clenched in her trapped hand.

"Drop. It." Laera growled lowly, tightening her grip.

Betraying no pain, the Black Widow opened her paw and the blade fell into Laera's waiting fingers. The younger mouse snorted with disdain. "Probably worthless anyway. Why would I want your stupid knife?"

"An Assassin's blade? Pretty valuable, you know." The new voice cutting above the crowd's bustle startled Laera and she darted to the side, narrowly missing an embarrassing fall over a Dwarf mouse. The owner of the voice was a female Diamond mouse, arms folded and looking intrigued at the blade now securely in Laera's belt. Shimmering eyes passed over Laera though, fixing the Black Widow with a bemused stare. "Times must be hard, to be going after a blade instead of cheese."

The Black Widow's snout wrinkled in anger. "I could care less! Can I go now?" She tugged at her trapped arm for emphasis.

Hesitating, Laera let the Black Widow go, reluctantly. Casting a dark, bitter look back at Laera and the intrusive Diamond, she vanished into the sea of furred bodies. A moment of awkwardness passed and Laera slowly looked sidelong at the Diamond. She was staring back calmly with a bemused smile.

"Look, I didn't need your help-"

"You don't recognize me, do you?"

Taken aback, Laera blinked in surprise. She'd never known any Diamond mice during her time as a Master, and she'd met no one but the Assassin's guild since her departure from the Dojo.

The Diamond mouse looked around conspiratorially, both of them shifting against the crowd moving around them. "It's _me_." She laughed lightly, multi-faceted smile glinting in the sun. "Pince."

Laera's immediate shock manifested into a deep frown. Pince? Of course she knew Pince. But Pince had been no Diamond, she had been a fellow Master. Laera moved closer, hissing through she crowd's murmur. "How did you fall? You weren't due for your test for some time, and I know it hasn't been that long since I left."

The Diamond, somehow Pince, looked around again, this time in suspicion. "Let's talk somewhere else. It might not be safe out here." Immediately she turned, and Laera followed her to a gnawed hole in the base of a bamboo pole. Climbing deftly up the inside, Pince squeeze through a wire connector that entered and exited through two holes in the bamboo to sit in one of the holes, settling comfortably on the connector. Laera marveled at the flexibility of Pince's diamond-hard skin before squeezing through herself to occupy in the other hole.

"It might not be safe?" Laera questioned as soon as she'd settled.

Pince sucked in a breath, the facets of her skin glinting reflections onto the inside walls of the pole. "Something's really, really wrong in the Dojo. The day after you…tested, Kino- you remember Kino?" Laera nodded but stayed silent. "Well, he was up for testing, and we heard…I mean, we always knew he was a noisy fighter, but then…" Pince looked away, growing quietly distraught. Laera remembered Kino, if only because she didn't like him. A pompous Fang Master, indeed very noisy shouting this or that 'war cry'. "They threw his body through the wall. All the way out of the Dojo." Pince's voice was broken and quiet. "We all heard the wall break, and we heard his…body hit the roof above our window. We saw his body fall." Pince looked up desperately, obviously scared. "Even the older Masters, the ones like you, they were scared. They said nothing like that had ever happened. The Dojo Masters never used to be that violent." Laera kept her own counsel, keeping her disturbed emotions to herself. Pince hugged herself, pushing into the wall of the pole, looking so terribly young. "There was lots of arguing. I think everyone was afraid. Some were saying they heard visitors in the Dojo Masters' chambers. That there were footsteps, when everybody knows they never walk. There were so many rumor flying around, that the Dojo Masters were going to start killing all the Masters to start over with new Students, that they were trying to dismantle the entire Dojo and scatter everyone out of Furoma, that some powerful mice from the south were trying to get the Dojo into their dark army… I heard some of the other Masters were leaving, sneaking out during the night, you know? Everyone just kept talking about it. I…I couldn't handle it anymore. So many just up and left. So, two nights ago, I did too." She looked up, offering an apologetic smile. "I was so sure I'd change into a Hapless, so I just ran. I didn't want to see what they did with Kino's body." She held up her paw, letting her small claws catch the light. "I started changing the next morning. I could see it in my fur. By the end of yesterday, I was all Diamond." A breathy laugh escaped. "It's taken a little getting used to." A long silence fell, and they listened to the crowd below. "So. You're an Assassin now?"

"Yes." Laera responded absently, reaching up to touch the coarse, blackened fur of her dragon mark. Her own defeat had been painful and humiliating, but at least she had survived. An uncomfortable silence fell, Laera lost in her own thoughts while Pince clearly expected her to continue the conversation.

"You haven't heard anything out here?" Pince anxiously prompted Laera out of her thoughts. "About what's happening to the Dojo Masters?"

Laera snorted. "No. The outside world doesn't seem to think Furoma, let alone the Masters, are anything particularly special. I've heard of dark places to the south, more to the west from here, but nothing beyond vague descriptions." She contemplated the cemetery, with its eerie red light and mysterious staircase. A glance at Pince showed her nibbling her lip and looking down, disappointed. Still so young, looking to those older for direction and distraction. "Do you remember Jar and Blent? A Fang and Belt Master, respectively. I accompanied them rather often."

Pince's eyes flashed excitedly. "Yea! I mean, I never really met them, but I do remember." She glanced away apologetically. "They were still there when I left."

Laera nodded, suppressing her worry. Neither of the pair were due for tests any time soon, and if something was truly wrong, she hoped Blent would be able to overcome Jar's innate loyalty to the Dojo. The recurring mention of the dark south set her mind spinning though. What if the staircase was not so that the living may descend, but so the dead could rise? "Thank you for the information. If I hear anything about what could be happening, I'll find you again." With a single nod for a goodbye, she avoided Pince's extended farewell by slipping quickly back down the inside of the pole.

Taking only a moment to readjust to the volume of the crowd, Laera dashed off towards the edge of the Bazaar, towards the west. If there was something deep and dark rising up from beneath the world, the Assassin's Guild might know about it. Bounding off towards the setting sun, Laera wondered if she had the fortitude to visit Furoma for herself, to see both the darkness and her old friends.

A/N: Trying to increase the overall size of my chapters, but this was simply the best place to leave off for this one. As mentioned on my profile, working on putting this story into comic form, but having a bit of trouble, so it may not happen for a while, if ever. As always, leave a review and let me know what you think!


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